Mangowo
patreon
[Fox Girl Evolution] Chapter 3: (｀∀´)Ψ
🕑 Added 2025-08-13 00:32:01 +0000 UTCIt all happened too damn fast. One second Julia was stepping through the gates like a sane person, the next something knocked her flat. She hit the ground hard, but even while being sucker-punched by physics, she somehow managed to curl around me protectively, probably because I was small enough that her full weight would’ve turned me into a pancake with bones.
I squirmed loose just in time to spot Bedivere and his ominous, robed death knight companion. Said robed companion was the spearman who'd shoved and almost stabbed her. The hit wasn’t even aimed to seriously injure her, though. Looked more like a distraction tactic, just enough to knock her off balance while Bedivere swooped in with something glowing and ominous.
It was a collar. A weird, arcane, glowy thing that Bedivere clicked shut around Julia’s neck, then turned his attention to me. I put on my best defensive hiss. He remained unimpressed. Another oversized collar landed around my neck. It hung comically loose for a split second before shrinking down with alarming speed. Squeeze. My attempted bite on his fingers was less "deadly viper," more "annoying gnat."
The guards were right there by the door. Watching. Not lifting a single useless finger.
Julia seemed just as appalled. She snapped back to her feet, eyes blazing.
“YOU FILTHY DOG! YOU FUCKING DARED?! DO YOU HAVE A FUCKING DEATH WISH, BASTARD?!” she roared at Bedivere.
His response was a lazy shrug. “Orders.”
She was winding up for another shout, then paused. Probably put two and two together mid-scream. Her tone turned frosty.
“…Are my parents even here?”
Bedivere leaned casually against his silent death knight, who hadn’t moved or spoken this entire time. “Told you she was sharp,” he chuckled, clearly impressed with himself. The knight gave zero acknowledgment..
“Oh, you bastard. Just wait,” Julia seethed. She scanned the room, locking onto the useless guards. “What the fuck are you two doing? Subdue him NOW for assaulting me!”
They remained frozen. Statues would have been more helpful. Julia’s stunned expression confirmed it: this was definitely not the welcome wagon she expected.
One final, venomous glare at Bedivere, then Julia snatched me back and stormed inside.
Inside was… something else. A massive chamber opened up before us, its tall and towering pillars were etched with circles and symbols, glowing faintly red. Ritualistic. Messy. Red stains everywhere. Blood, probably. The coppery, rotting stench made it pretty clear that this was no creative interior design choice. I really wanted to believe it wasn’t blood, but no dice.
Julia stalked past the pillars and toward a wide clearing ahead. The floor was covered in runes, drawn in complex ritual patterns. People—naked, kneeling, bleeding—were arranged across it.
Wait. No. No skin. Where the hell was their skin?!
My own reaction was surprisingly muted annoyance compared to Julia’s. She took one look at the skinless bodies arranged in submissive, ritual circles and promptly lost her lunch. I was disgusted too, sure. But mostly, I was just deeply irritated by the whole situation.
My focus snapped to the weird collar choking me. A familiar internal ping went off.
[{Trickery} has detected a spell. Would you like to view the information?]
Sure?
[Spell Identified: Mana Suppression Shackle]
An enchantment designed to prevent the weaving or manipulation of mana. Automatically adapts to the wearer’s size and vitals. Full containment protocol active.
So it wasn’t just tight and ugly, it was magically sabotaging me too. Not that I had magic. Well… aside from my Trait.
But it hadn’t blocked that. Which meant whatever suppression was at play didn’t affect abilities that didn’t rely on mana weaving or manipulation.
Good to know.
I tilted my head slightly, eyes narrowing at the pitch-black band. I’d never actually had a reason to try the second part of my Trait before.
[Comprehension increased. Would you like to modify the spell?]
Oh hell yes, I mentally affirmed.
The modification interface blinked into view:
[Enchantment Modification Interface: Mana Suppression Shackle]
[Target Spell Structure: Tier I Restriction Field]
[Available Modifications:]
• Destroy Mana Suppression Field (nullifies collar effects, becomes useless accessory): 99% Success Chance
• Change Target of Mana Suppression (switch target within 8 meters, collar will track and attach to the new neck): 38% Success Chance
• BOOM (Collar detonates after absorbing target’s mana): 101% Success Chance, 200% efficiency!
• Alter Aesthetic Properties (color/texture): 100% Success Chance
Well. That escalated quickly.
[Take the second option before taking third!!]
My eyes narrowed at the sudden, unsolicited advice splashing across my mental screen. Before I could process it, the message blinked out and reappeared—edited, almost sheepishly:
[Goddess of Trickery wants you to choose the second option before taking the third!]
…
Suspicion: confirmed. Every so-called divine message had piggybacked on my Trait’s spell-analysis interface. The formatting always gave it away—half the time stiff and ceremonial, the other half sounding like a nosy roommate. Was there even a goddess? Or had my Trait been running this scam since day one?
[...]
ANSWER ME!
[I thought I was doing a good job.]
No. You were absolutely not. Who the hell are you?
[You already guessed right tho… it’s me, your ever-reliable Trait! Ain’t I glorious and very helpful?]
Glorious? You almost got me killed! Option two only had a thirty-eight percent chance!
[But it was the most FUN!]
Consider this a standing order: Never. Give. Me. Advice. Again. But seriously, are you sentient? Is my Trait actually sapient?
[Something like that.]
That’s… profoundly weird.
[You’re weird.]
Hey!
[While I’d love to chat, you are quite in a predicament, you see. So let’s talk later once you’re, you know… safe.]
Fair point. I’d grill this anomalous glitch in my skull later. For now… so much for my dream of lazing around as a pampered fluffball. Lovely while it lasted.
The interface winked out, and I refocused.
Julia stood frozen beside the skinless corpses, each one arranged in a grotesque, ritualistic bow. She was scanning the bloody symbols etched beneath them, lips moving silently, probably trying to work out the ritual’s function.
Her analysis shattered as a man emerged from a narrow tunnel behind the grisly formation. Julia’s gaze snapped to him, instantly sharpening. He wore a black robe uniform similar to Bedivere’s, but dripping with opulent trimmings. His lip curled into a sneer as his eyes landed on the vomit still staining Julia’s mouth.
“Well, why am I not astonished? Your inaugural response to this magnificent artwork was pure revulsion," the man said, "enough to empty your stomach."
Artwork? I glanced at the skinless corpses. Why was my reaction so tame? I used to be human, right? Weirdly, I felt... detached. I could intellectually grasp the sheer fucked-up-ness, but the visceral horror was absent. This guy desperately needed an art critic. Or a therapist.
"Who are these people, Lucian?" Julia demanded, voice tight.
So Julia knew him.
Lucian's face was mostly hidden. His hooded robe seemed woven from living shadow, writhing to obscure everything except his unnervingly visible mouth. "Oh, just leftovers from the last awakening batch," he dismissed. A soft tsk. “They failed to withstand the power of undeath, despite our… considerable effort. Some souls are simply beyond our Lord’s salvation.” A low chuckle. “But as a final tribute, they still serve His crusade. Like this.”
Julia’s expression darkened. “By ‘salvation’ you mean their bodies rejected the monster organs you forcefully shoved inside them? Even if they hadn’t, you know that’s not how it works. They passed the trial before surgery. If they failed to cultivate undeath, the rules state they pick from a neighboring path, darkness or twilight, and serve as is.”
Lucian laughed, a cold, grating sound. “Oh, precious sister, you imagine I’d entertain your suggestions?”
"I am NOT your sister!" Julia snarled. "And that wasn't a suggestion! You know the sanctum's laws as well as I do. Do you truly fancy yourself a genius for breaking them? I don't know what madness possessed Father to adopt an imbecile like you, but you are nothing to me." Her voice hardened like ice. "Now. Where. Are. Father. And. Mother? I'm certain they'd have plenty to say about your little... performance art."
“Regrettably,” Lucian purred, “neither graces this sanctum any longer.”
“Cease your fucking jests! Where are they?” Julia’s control frayed.
"Well, I'd like to ask the same question." Lucian turned slowly, deliberately. He gestured behind him, where a massive golden skull was embroidered on his back– intricately encased in a pattern of roses dripping with bloody thorns. "Perhaps your understandable distress blinded you to a singular detail."
Julia gasped, a sharp intake of breath. Surprise flickered, then vanished, replaced by dawning horror. “The Rose Shepherd sigil… Since when…?”
"Since your esteemed parents abandoned this sanctum without a trace, sister." Lucian gestured grandly to himself. "The sanctum needed a new shepherd. And with our Lord's blessings, I rose to the rank. He deemed me... capable of herding this particular flock."
"So then..." Julia whispered, the pieces crashing together. "That's why Bedivere and the guards..." Her voice trailed off, the betrayal complete.
Ah, I analyzed, though I was lacking the context it was rather easy to put one and one together. The political landscape snapping into sharp, unpleasant focus. Kind of sticky. Julia's earlier cockiness made perfect sense now – she expected her parents' authority. Instead, power had shifted to... stepbrother, who clearly held a grudge the size of a cathedral. The guards' inaction wasn't negligence; it was obedience to the new regime.
But the real question was why bait her here using her parents' names if they're long gone? What did he want with Julia now?
Julia seemed to have the exact same question burning in her mind. Her charming stepbrother, ever the bastard, answered it with a grin.
“Naturally. If you’d known your parents evaporated and I now held the reins, you’d have likewise… disappeared. Given my profound distaste for your existence. Especially since you didn’t scurry to the Sun Church’s mongrels to condemn us all.”
Julia’s tone went flat, deadpan. “And now I’ve walked right into your trap.”
But I noticed it, the sweat starting to form along her brow, the way her grip on me tightened just slightly, her heartbeat thudding faster against my side.
“I assume departure is off the table?”
Lucian sighed, almost wistfully. “You were always a disappointment. But also… sharp. One of the most prodigious Surgeons the Sanctum ever produced, truly. Shame you refused to see the light the Lord offered. But hey, I’m grateful you left. If you hadn’t, maybe you’d be wearing this robe instead of me. Not everything’s a loss, I suppose.”
Julia’s voice dropped lower. Slower. “And what are you planning now?” She tapped the collar at her neck, the mana shackle. “You wouldn’t have dragged me here with this around my neck if you wanted me to go back to my old job.”
Just as Lucian drew breath to speak, Julia’s lips brushed my ear, moving almost imperceptibly. “You need to run, Clover. I know you understand me. Go through the tunnel behind him. First chamber, third tile on the right. Push it. Run through the passage that opens and don’t look back.”
She lifted me up slightly, just enough to obscure her whispering behind the motion. Lucian, too lost in his monologue and ego, didn’t seem to notice a thing.
“Ah, precisely! You remain far too… inconvenient to leave unsupervised, dear sister,” Lucian declared, spreading his hands. “Your parents adored you, sole reason they tolerated such a viper in their nest. And you, in your quaint way, loved them back. Hence, you never truly bit them. Such touching filial devotion. I confess… envy gnawed at me. But!” His tone snapped. “Today banishes such petty woes. Because, you see, when I gained the Rose Shephard aspect, when I truly became a servant of the Lord’s will… I gained something. A gift. A sight.”
His gaze fell to the mask Julia was still holding.
“It let me see patterns of divinity. And imagine my surprise when I noticed that thing,” he gestured to the mask, “was a divine artifact.”
Julia’s eyes widened. Then her face drained of all color. She hurled the mask away from her like it had bitten her.
Lucian laughed. “No need for panic now. It’s quite… drained. I sense no divinity within it.” His unseen gaze sharpened, pinning Julia. “You, however… reek of it with every breath. Must have somehow siphoned its essence. If anyone could bleed power from a Deity’s relic without understanding the first rule, and without their mind shattering, it would be you, sister dear.”
Julia was still frozen in place, her voice barely holding steady.
“I-I had no idea. And I don’t know where you're getting this from, I’ve gotten nothing from that mask. There are no changes to my Soul World—”
She cut off mid-sentence. Something clicked. Hard. Her gaze snapped to the ritual carved into the ground around her, and her face paled.
Her eyes narrowed. “Wait… is this supposed to be some kind of life force siphoning ritual?”
Lucian didn’t respond right away. Julia’s breathing quickened, her gaze darting around the chamber like a trapped butterfly, scanning every rune, every bloody mark.
“…Ah,” she exhaled, voice quiet but bitter. “I think I get it now. That’s why I’m here, shackled and mana-blocked, completely defenseless. You were after the divinity you sensed around me.”
There was a tremble in her voice now. Not fear, just a kind of exhausted clarity.
Lucian finally spoke. “You’re close. But not quite right.”
As he did, the runes scrawled in blood around him began to glow, pulsing, crawling with power.
“You don’t mess with foreign divinity,” he said, his voice tightening as the glow grew. “What surprised me most wasn’t that you found that artifact, but that you stayed sane. No voices whispering, no bleeding eyes, no hallucinations. Not only that, you siphoned it.”
He took a step forward as the crimson light slithered outward from his boots.
“You don’t siphon random crap, Julia. That’s the fastest way people die around us. That’s why Cultivators lose their minds. Why some people never take an aspect and live their lives quietly, without power. Because the price is often too high.”
He was getting worked up now, posture taut, every word more intense than the last.
“So no, I’m not siphoning anything from you. But after that stunt with the artifact… I couldn’t deny it. You’re valuable.”
Julia didn’t say anything at first. Her fists shook. Her eyes already shimmered with tears she refused to let fall.
Then, in the softest breath, she whispered into my ear, “Run.”
She pressed a kiss to my forehead.
“Straight down the tunnel. First chamber. Third tile to the right.”
And then she dropped me.
With a roar, she lunged toward the center of the room—toward Lucian—like a blade.
I just stared at her back as everything seemed to slow around me. What the hell was even happening anymore?
And with the kind of subtlety a freight train doesn’t have, every single red flag in her behavior screamed the same thing: she wasn’t expecting to make it out of this.
…Shit.
I turned my focus inward. My mana shackle was still active but not for long.
I selected the first modification option immediately. No time for second guesses or playing risky games.
[Destroy Mana Suppression Field – 99% Success Chance]
The collar loosened, expanded back to its original size, and slipped from my neck like a dead snake falling off a branch.
Then, instinctively, I glanced toward Julia and hit the same command for her. A flash. Her eyes widened. She must’ve felt the mana rush back into her system. I had no idea what that felt like, but it looked like she did.
Unfortunately… it might have been too late.
Above Lucian, a swirling red matrix cracked open mid-air, and from it burst a grotesque hand, swollen with pus, veins like rotted vines, and roses decaying on its skin. It slammed down like a guillotine, pinning Julia in place mid-lunge.
Three distinct pings exploded in my mind:
—One: Lucian’s spell.
—Two: Something Julia had just triggered. I couldn’t see what.
—Three: The ritual itself, now glowing brighter, louder, alive.
I zeroed in, ready to yank Lucian’s spell apart from the inside, when—
“RUN, CLOVER!” Julia screamed.
At the same moment, two massive spell matrices cracked open around her and from them exploded writhing tentacles of dark magic, each the size of a city bus, shrieking forward like harpoons aimed straight at Lucian.
“Oh—” Lucian started.
I couldn't see his face, but the shocked jerk of his shadow-masked head screamed surprise. He retreated with the eerie grace of a gymnast, narrowly dodging the bus-sized tentacles. A single snap of his fingers summoned two more robed figures – Fabio's death knight twins – materializing from shadows with wicked-sharp daggers. Like before, they moved fast. Julia's shadowy tentacles were shredded into dissipating mist in the blink of an eye.
"Interesting," Lucian purred, regaining his composure. The shadows around his mouth twisted into something like admiration. "You broke the shackles meant to cripple you. Your talents truly never cease to surprise me."
Now I understood Julia's desperate plea to run. Even unshackled, facing Lucian and his instant-death entourage was suicide. She knew it. Charging was buying me time.
Logically, running was the only sane choice. My tiny legs itched to bolt down that tunnel.
Instead, my focus snapped to the ritual itself. The massive, bloody runes pulsed with escalating energy. Maybe I could disrupt that? What was I expecting? Honestly, no clue. But escape suddenly felt pointless as rough, gauntleted hands closed around me from behind, yanking me off the ground.
Bedivere. His expression flickered with surprise as he spotted my discarded, oversized collar on the floor nearby, but he didn't comment. "Well... no running," he rumbled, holding me firmly. "Don’t fret, little demon. I’m certain the new Shephard can find an 'optimal use' for you, even if your contractee is... retired." He grinned, a chillingly practical expression. "Research on demons like you is tragically sparse, you see."
I shot him my most impressive deadpan stare. Optimal use? Translation: lab rat in a place where skinning people was the hobby. Charming.
Ignoring his creepy grin, I focused inward. The familiar interface snapped into view, hovering over the ritual's swirling energy.
[Ritual Analysis Interface: Crimson Sacrificial Conduit]
[Ritual Structure: Composite Ritual Matrices (Tier V)]
Huh. This… looked different from before.
[Well, duh.]
Not now. I really didn’t need my trait’s sass.
[Says you. You’re in a death circle, so allow me to enlighten: rituals are composite constructs made of multiple synergistic spells. That means they're inherently unstable, especially during modification. With your current power level, you can only alter one foundational spell.]
…What?
[Surprised by my eloquence? I know. I impress myself.]
Honestly, yeah. Coming from something called Trickery, I was bracing for a shitpost. After your earlier “suggestion,” I had every reason to be suspicious.
[Hey, I exist with you. I don’t exactly want to get banished to the Void of Failed Traits. So yes, I'm being helpful. Gloriously helpful!]
I deadpanned at the floating interface. The ritual around me was pulsing faster, deepening into a crimson glow that made the floor shimmer like blood. No time.
Show me the available spells! I mentally said and immediately regretted it.
Hundreds of glowing screens exploded into view, burying me in a forest of flashing letters.
What the fuck?
[You thought rituals were simple?]
I don’t even know anything, you stupid interface. How am I supposed to parse all of this?
But suddenly… inspiration struck.
“Just show me the most important ones!”
[…uh.]
“NOW!”
[Fine, fine—Identifying Most Foundational Spells…]
The sea of windows vanished, and only five glowing panels remained:
1. [Sanguine Siphon (Tier IV - Drain Spell)]
Draws life force and latent mana from designated sacrifices.
2. [Soulcage (Tier IV - Containment Spell)]
Prevents the escape of sacrificial essence. Contains ritual backlash.
3. [Flesh Anchor (Tier IV - Binding Spell)]
Binds sacrifices physically and metaphysically to the ritual locus.
4. [Chalice of the Black Shepherd (Tier V - Summoning Spell)]
Channels siphoned energy to breach planar boundaries and commune with a designated entity.
5. [Guided Offering (Tier II - Targeting Spell)]
Designates the sacrificial conduit for the offering.
I stared at the screens.
I don’t get any of these. Which one should I target?
[Seriously?]
Yes, do your job as a gloriously helpful trait!
I hoped the trait was finally being honest—not just picking the flashiest disaster because it enjoyed the taste of chaos. Either way, I was out of time. The pressure in the ritual circle was climbing. Even Bedivere looked rattled, his expression scrunched from the weight of the strange pressure choking the room.
I was for some reason, not very dazed, like I could feel the strange pressure but I really didn’t feel affected by it.
All around us, crimson light poured out of the skinless corpses that had become the ritual's anchors. There now two pustule-covered rose arms holding Julia and they were squeezing. Hard.
Lucian floated above it all, muttering something that shouldn’t have been language. His words crawled along my skin like ants dipped in ink. The ritual was nearing its crescendo.
The trait finally responded.
[Well… here's the thing. You don’t have the mana or intelligence to modify any of the Tier IV or V spells. Only the last one’s within reach.]
My mind flicked to my stat screen. Intelligence, huh? I’d ask how that actually correlated with spell architecture later. For now, my eyes locked on the final option.
[Modify: Guided Offering (Tier II - Targeting Spell)?]
YES!
[Current Target: Julia Von Curtis.
[Modification: Change Target (Select any entity within 10 meters): 100% Success]
Hoh? Perfect. Change target to the bastard stepbrother!
[Huehehehe… done! (｀∀´)Ψ]
What’s with the creepy laugh and… that emote?!
Comments
Summer Coff
Kino
